


Ability

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet. Nasir tends to Agron's wounds and thinks.  Also slight porn. For eclectic-turmoil, who prompted tender reunion sex and beard-burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ability

Before Nasir re-bandages Agron, he makes him drink strong infusion of herbs to prevent fever, then rids him of last traces of dust and Roman cruelty by carefully bathing his hair and bruised body with warm water.

He is efficient, not wanting Agron to catch chill, though his vision blurs with moisture when he is confronted with Agron’s unwrapped hands.

“You do not have to do this.” Agron says.

“I need to. I need…” He has Agron again, that is enough, and he would not ask for more. “No one else can care for you like I can.”

He gently pats Agron’s swollen face with damp cloth. Agron’s lips are swollen and slightly open. Nasir falls to kissing them, although after many rinses, Agron’s mouth still tastes metallic.

“Nasir.” Agron’s arms wrap weakly around Nasir, making him shiver. “Do not cry. I am here now. And I will cease your tears from now on.”

But Nasir knows that he might well be crying again soon: Should Agron fight without good hands, Agron will likely die. And how can Nasir not shed tear before charging wildly forth to join him in afterlife?

To distract himself from thought he takes up shaving blade. But Agron blocks his hand with forearm. “You do not have to do this.”

Nasir smiles weakly. “I would like to.”

“I do not wish it,” Agron says wearily. “I will discover all that injuries have taken from me soon enough.”

Nasir closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He thinks: ‘What might I have done differently so that I could have gone with him? What might I have done?’

He still does not know, so here they are.  "Agron, you should have seen me fight as gladiator.  I brought you great honor."

"You always have." And now Agron is crying.

*

Agron can still press fingertips into Nasir’s sides and stroke, stroke, tell him how he loves him, apologize over and over for leaving him behind, until Nasir's face is wet.

He can still wipe Nasir's face dry and kiss him into arousal.

But Agron cannot casually flip Nasir's body into whatever interesting position occurs to him.

“Lie upon your back so I can lick you open for my cock.” Agron’s hoarse voice achieves same goal.  "Lift your legs up over my shoulders, Nasir. Yes, like that. Fuck."

Too late, Nasir remembers that until Agron's wounds heal, he is unable to hold onto his hand for ballast when Agron’s passion rocks him weightlessly back and forth.

Agron does not stop fucking him, though tears fall hot onto Nasir’s face.

“Apologies,” says Nasir. 

Agron, bent over on elbows above him with half-pained, half-rapturous expression, does pause then.  Nasir gasps when Agron punctuates his words with sharp thrust of hips.  “Do not apologize for _that_.”

*

In morning soreness radiates from Nasir's ass. He is chafed at nipples, cheeks of ass and inner thighs by stubborn Agron’s rough beard. 

He smiles down at man snoring beside him. Agron’s body is loose, arms thrown up over head. This is man who will do anything, _anything_ to be this free, to have Nasir be this free.

Nasir knows what he will remind Agron of when he awakens: Let Crassus and Caesar and all the armies of Rome come. Together they will kill every last fucking one.


End file.
